


The ocean washed open your grave.

by murg



Category: OMORI (Video Game)
Genre: Aftermath, Bisexual Aubrey (OMORI), Chatting & Messaging, Depression, Dissociation, Dreams and Nightmares, Friendship, Gen, Gender Dysphoria, Language of Flowers, Panic Attacks, Repression, Selectively Mute Sunny (OMORI), Spoilers, Symbolism, Trans Male Character, Trans Male Hero (OMORI), Transphobia, Trauma, hero is such a deceptively complex character in this essay i will
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-17
Updated: 2021-01-17
Packaged: 2021-03-14 21:27:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28802058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/murg/pseuds/murg
Summary: Hero’s allowed to have complicated feelings about this. He’s allowed to take space and time to process everything.You don't have to forgive me.He just wishes it didn't have to be so messy.
Relationships: Aubrey & Kel & Basil (OMORI), Hero & Aubrey (OMORI), Hero & Basil (OMORI), Hero & Kel (OMORI), Hero & Sunny (OMORI), Hero/Mari (OMORI)
Comments: 61
Kudos: 637
Collections: Quality Fics





	The ocean washed open your grave.

**Hero** • _11/20/XX_

Hey, Sunny. I just wanted to check in. Hope you’re doing alright. Did you get the seeds? We sent them on Monday.

**Hero** • _11/21/XX_

Hi, Sunny. No pressure, but I was wondering if you got the seeds we sent you.

**Hero** • _11/25/XX_

Hi, Sunny. I hope you’re doing okay. I’d love to talk sometime, if you’re feeling up to it. No pressure about the seeds. We all just thought it’d be a neat project we could do together.

**Hero** • _12/10/XX_

Hey, Sunny. Just checking in. Kel’s already endangered two plants, somehow. Apparently, he tried to water them with Gatorade to “make them stronger.” That’s Kel, haha. Basil’s put him on cactus duty with something he already grew. Aubrey’s got some little leaves kinda poking out of the ground, now. I don’t remember what flowers they’re supposed to be. Maybe I’ll actually see some flowers when I come home for winter break, but I’m not totally sure on the timeline for these things. Nothing’s come out of my pot at all, but I keep watering it. Hope you’ve been settling in well at your new place. Time sure flies.

**Hero** • _yesterday at 10:34pm_

I hope I’m not bothering you, Sunny. I’m just wondering how you are. I hope you’re alright. If it’s not too much trouble, I’d appreciate it if you could message me sometime. We don’t need to talk. I totally understand if you don’t want to. I just want some confirmation.

**Hero** • _today at 1:04am_

I just want to know if you’re alive.

\- - -

It was Kel’s idea to start growing flowers. He’d proposed that they could eventually sell them at Fix-It, whenever (if ever) they grew. And it had sounded like a nice project, at the time. But, with the obvious exception of Basil, none of them knew the first thing about growing flowers.

Basil had sent 144p four-part Youtube videos and overly long instructional texts, detailing temperatures and timeframes for certain perennials, but--if anyone had dared to be honest--they were foreign at best, totally alien at worst.

Kel hadn’t thought this whole venture through that well. Unsurprising.

But Hero has to admit, prodding at the loose dirt in his little pot, that there’s a strange appeal to it, even if he doesn’t know what he’s doing. There’s a living creature somewhere in there that needs him. He acknowledges there’s something viscerally satisfying about the idea, even if it’s also more than a little terrifying.

If this plant dies on him, he might have a meltdown. He isn’t blind to his own emotional fragility; he just would rather keep it under lock and key.

He hasn’t been...well, since his last trip to Faraway Town. The hospital. Basil. Sunny. ...Mari.

Mari.

He rubs his face, smearing dirt across his cheek with the motion. Big final next week. Organic chemistry. It’s killing him. (Not really. Not actually. He’s very much alive and tests are not by themselves naturally fatal.) He doesn’t feel like he has a great handle on the material at all.

At least he has a single dorm room to waste away his neurotic hours in. The college doesn’t let him room with any guys, and that’s fine. He isn’t interested in meeting new people. He hasn’t been in years.

He hasn’t even been interested in talking to the people he _does_ know.

At least that’s changed. They have a group chat, now. All five of them: Him, Kel, Basil, Aubrey, and Sunny. Kel had insisted on it, setting up an AOL handle and log-in for Sunny and writing it out on a tiny slip of paper after Sunny had (awkwardly) suggested it’d be better if he were left out.

_We’re not leaving you out! You’re our friend._

Not that Hero can blame Sunny for his response. It was very sensible. Considering...

Well.

He can’t really afford to think about it. It’s too painful. And he isn’t sure what he’ll do if he _does_ think about it for too long. His chest clenches in warning and he smoothes out his mind.

Their group chat exists to talk about flowers, mostly. That’s all anyone dares to talk about. Maybe they’ll eventually branch out, but in the interim, this is what feels safe. Basil only ever seems to respond when he feels he has to, but he’s comfortable sharing plant information and advice, at least. And that’s what Hero can associate with him safely enough--Basil loves plants and he loves taking care of things. That’s the Basil he knew before. And having that association, seeing that association reaffirmed again and again, is somewhat grounding. As if what happened four years ago was only some horrific break from reality.

It’s helpful. It really is. Hero tries to focus on what’s helpful, and the chat is certainly helpful. Maybe this (poorly considered) flower project can help them all find a common ground again, no matter how difficult it’ll be. It’s good to talk to people again, at the very least, even if it’s through a screen.

Sunny never contributes.

\- - -

**Flower Chat**

_SUCCESS.jpg_

**kel** • _today at 4:46pm_

Check out this!!!

**kel** • _today at 4:47pm_

It’s got FLOWERS on it!

**Hero** • _today at 5:02pm_

Wow, that’s awesome, Kel!

**Aubrey** • _today at 5:05pm_

How’s it got flowers if it’s December??? What did you do?

**kel** • _today at 5:06pm_

I fed it and it grew big and strong! >:)

**Aubrey** • _today at 5:08pm_

What??? You literally forget about it for weeks at a time, Kel. I call bull.

**Basil** • _today at 5:34pm_

It’s a Christmas cactus. They bloom in winter.

**kel** • _today at 5:40pm_

:000000

**kel** • _today at 5:40pm_

I still did a good job tho right?

**Hero** • _today at 5:47pm_

Of course!

**Basil** • _today at 5:47pm_

Definitely! You’ve been watering it.

**Aubrey** • _today at 6:09pm_

:/

\- - -

Packing for winter break is a little surreal. It’s his second year, but it still feels so enormous. He never wants to go back to Faraway Town. And now, even though maybe it will be better (maybe), he feels the familiar stone of dread sink in his stomach. He doesn’t want to go back.

Even if his friends are there. Maybe because they’re there.

(Sunny isn’t, though.)

He sighs, folding his boxers and rolling them to fit in his backpack. He doesn’t bring much besides his textbooks. Has to study. Has to focus on _something_.

Sunny won’t be there. He isn’t sure if that makes it easier or harder.

When Mari had died, he had felt so helpless. What could he have done? How could he have not seen that she was hurting so deeply? He’d felt, at some level, responsible. Not for her death--he didn’t kill her--but he should have been there for her. Not been so obviously self-absorbed. He should have noticed _something_.

When Sunny had told him the truth, he felt an entirely new sense of helplessness. It wasn’t preventable. It wasn’t foreseeable. It had nothing to do with him at all. There’s nothing he could have done at all that would have affected the outcome.

It was so...so senseless.

The emotional wound has reopened, but it’s stretched and strained across new territory. A wide, gaping hole of agony. There was no purpose. No reason behind her death at all. A muscle impulse had sent her hurdling toward death. Nothing more.

Sometimes, late at night, Hero wonders if he would have dived into the lake to save those two if he’d known.

Yes. He would have. But he still wonders, all the same.

Packing, Hero wonders how well he knows anyone. He wonders how well he knows himself. A defensive indignation flares him in at that--plenty of people have thought they knew him better than he does--but he has to admit, intellectually, that he really isn’t sure.

He zips up his backpack, the canvas straining around the corners of his anatomy textbook.

The pot by his bed looks the same as the day he planted whatever seeds he’d been given. Dirt. Fallow.

“It doesn’t matter,” he says to it. “Everything’s going to be okay.”

Everything’s...

Well, it’s over, right? It’s all over.

It’s _been_ over. For years. He has no idea why it feels like it’s never over, every day. It’s always _going_ to be okay. It never _is_ okay.

Hero blinks, eyes darting to the clock beside it. He lost twenty minutes. That happens, sometimes.

“Everything’s going to be okay,” he says, echoing himself. His reflection watches him from the window. He blinks again. It watches him. He practices his smile, watching the muscles of his face contract with a hazy awareness of his own body. Like looking at a stranger.

It looks genuine. It always does.

\- - -

“Hero! Hero, check out my flowers! There’s _tons_ of them!”

Sally wails as Kel, who’s now taller than Hero, still grabs at him like a petulant child.

“Kel! Let him get through the door.”

“Hi, everyone,” Hero calls, sidling past Kel. He makes sure to give him eye contact. He makes sure Kel knows he sees him. “Yeah, I’ll check out your flowers when I put my bag upstairs. Can’t wait!”

“Dinner first,” their mother says, rubbing Sally’s back.

He sets his pot of dirt on the living room table and lays his backpack to the side. His eyes trail over the wall with all the family photos through the years. Photos that go way back, photos of Kel as a baby, of Hero giving a gap-toothed grimace in a Sunday dress. He’s never asked to have a single photo taken down. He never will.

“Hero? Dinner’s ready.”

He blinks, looking toward Kel. “Right behind you. I’m pretty tired, sorry.”

“It’s fine! Mom made your favorite! I mean-- Your _second_ favorite.” Kel winks at him. “Hamburgers!”

Hamburgers are not Hero’s favorite, nor his second favorite food. “Oh. Nice!”

The table’s already set when he enters, everyone at their usual spots. Sally can sit at a highchair now.

“Hero, we’ve got to compare heights!”

Why? Kel’s taller than him, now. The thought makes something squirm inside of him. Jealousy. He tamps it down quickly. Kel’s always wanted to be taller than him. He’s happy for him. He laughs as he slides into his seat. “Kel, I don’t think so. You’re definitely taller than me, now.”

Kel takes a bite. “Well, I’ve got to make sure!” He swallows. “And then we can play some video games and I can show you my _awesome_ plant.”

“Kel, you’re _studying_ tonight.”

“Moooom!”

“Don’t you _‘mom’_ me. You have a C in Trigonometry.”

Kel stares at his plate, tapping his fork against it.

“He has a C in Trigonometry,” their mother tells Hero.

He hums.

“He isn’t like you. He doesn’t study at all.”

“It’s really hard,” Kel mumbles.

“What’d you say?”

“Well, maybe I can help him a bit,” Hero offers quickly.

“You just got back from college; you don’t need to do that, Hero.”

“I want to.” He doesn’t want to.

Their mother shakes his head, looking at their father. “He’s too nice. He gets it from you.”

Their father laughs. Kel stares at his plate.

Sally starts crying.

“Shoot.” Their mother stands up, setting her napkin down. “She needs her diaper changed.”

“I’ll do dishes,” their father says as she rushes from the room. “You’ve got to be tired, Hero. It’s a long train ride.”

Hero blinks, looking at the table. All of their plates are empty. They’d all eaten. He doesn’t remember doing that.

He clears his throat. “I don’t mind doing dishes, Dad.”

“No, don’t worry about it.” Their father collects their plates with a smile. “Help Kel with his homework and get some shut-eye. We’ll talk more in the morning!”

As their father leaves, the room becomes cloyingly quiet. Hero clears his throat again. Whatever’s lodged there doesn’t budge. “Um. You want to show me your flowers, Kel?”

“Sure,” Kel replies, pushing his chair out.

He waits behind Hero as he slips his bulky backpack onto his shoulders and picks up his plant(?).

“Aubrey wants us all to meet up and compare our plants,” Kel tells him as they climb the stairs.

“Okay, sure.” His fingers curl awkwardly over his pot, glancing at the expanse of nothing he’ll get to present.

“Mine is gonna be the best!” Kel proclaims.

Heart sinking, Hero believes him.

“Anyways. Here’s my awesome plant. Check it out.”

Sitting next to Kel’s messy bed is the large, spidery Christmas cactus. Bright fuchsia flowers dangle at the ends of its sagging limbs.

Kel flicks at one of the leaves. “Basil told me it’s actually a succulent, even though it’s called a cactus. I guess they’re related or something.”

“Huh.”

The flowers are quite beautiful. Hero wonders if he would have had more luck if he could have started with an already-grown plant like Kel had. Maybe he would have just killed it, though.

That’s an upsetting thought.

“Have you heard from Sunny?” he asks before his brain can catch up. He tries not to wince at his lack of care. Not a great question to push on anyone, considering...

Considering...

“No,” Kel answers easily, fingering one of the limp leaves of the alleged succulent. “I try to message him once a week, though.” He laughs. “He probably can’t stand me.”

“I’m sure he appreciates it.” Hero isn’t sure at all.

“Yeah.”

That awful silence again.

“I guess you should help me with my homework, huh?”

“If you want. We don’t need to, Kel.”

“Well, I’ve got a C in Trig. Mom told you.”

“I’m sure you’re doing your best.”

“My best isn’t _your_ best though.” Kel flops onto his bed. He sighs. “The only thing I’m good at is basketball and I’m not even _that_ good. Not like NBA good, I mean. I’m bad at Trigonometry. I’m bad at, like, everything when compared to you.”

“You’re good at stuff. You got that plant to bloom,” Hero points out.

Kel shrugs. “Yeah. Basil gave me a lot of pointers, though. Like I have to water it every week, stuff like that.”

“That’s good that you do that.”

“Yeah, but it’s hard to remember!”

“Ah.” Why would that be hard to remember? He could just write it into his weekly schedule.

“You don’t get it,” Kel grouses, staring at his ceiling. “You’re perfect.”

Hero stares at him, something small and vicious twisting in the pit of his stomach.

He lets out a friendly chuckle, reaching down to ruffle Kel’s hair.

\- - -

**Flower Chat**

**kel** • _today at 2:20pm_

Wait where r we meeting???

**Aubrey** • _today at 2:21pm_

Oh my God, Kel. At BASIL’S. We told you!

**kel** • _today at 2:21pm_

Like on the last day of school :( how can I remember that?

**Aubrey** • _today at 2:22pm_

I can’t believe you. Get your ass down here.

**kel** • _today at 2:23pm_

Hi, Aubrey! It’s Hero. Can’t wait to see you guys soon. Maybe mind your language a little, haha

**Aubrey** • _today at 2:23pm_

Sorry Hero.

\- - -

It’s as he feared. His plant is lagging behind the rest of theirs. Aubrey’s doesn’t have blooms yet, but it certainly has stems. Even a bud, on one of them. “They’re zinnias,” she had declared with no small amount of pride. “Basil gave me a sun lamp to grow them better.”

“Oh wow,” Hero hums, eying them.

“They’re coming along really well,” Basil says softly.

“You guys saw mine!” Kel says.

“You didn’t even actually _grow_ yours, Kel,” Aubrey snaps.

“I took care of it!”

“Um. How’s yours, Hero?” Basil asks him, ignoring Kel and Aubrey’s building squabble.

He sheepishly holds up his empty pot.

“Ah.”

“I’ve, um. I’ve been watering it and stuff. And I even put some of that plant juice on it. I don’t remember the brand name, sorry.”

Basil offers him a discomfited smile. “Some plants take a little time.”

Hero tries not to deflate. “Oh. Okay.”

“I got those seeds a while ago, anyways. They might be old? Sorry...”

“What kinds are flowers are they, again?” he asks, prodding at the dirt.

“Oh. Um. Marigolds? Yeah. I gave you marigolds.”

Marigolds. Right. Marigolds. He’s growing marigolds. He doesn’t even know what marigolds look like. Hero stares blankly at the dirt and tries to imagine them.

Aubrey and Kel are yelling at each other, now. It sounds faraway to Hero, muted somehow.

“Um.” Basil’s quiet voice is thunderous, though.

“Yeah?”

“I gave Sunny some seeds, too. So. I hope those are growing well.”

His lips tug. “Right. I, ah. I hope so, too.” He stares at the soil.

“Hero.”

He looks up, catching Aubrey’s eyes.

“It’s weird, seeing you again after your semester.” She gestures. “You look and sound, like. More...adult. You know?”

He certainly sounds, well. His voice is deeper, yeah. He isn’t sure if he seems more adult, though.

“She means that you’re turning into a total hunk!” Kel crows.

Aubrey groans covering her face.

“It’s fine, Aubrey. _Everyone_ likes Hero.”

Discomfort prickles underneath Hero’s skin at his words. “We all like each other, here,” he replies lightly. “We’re friends.”

“Y-yeah,” Aubrey agrees. Her eyes dart to the side. “Um. I got Kim some seeds to try out, too. If that’s okay.”

“Sure!” Kel waggles his eyebrows. “Aubrey and Kim, sitting in a tree. K-I-S-S--”

“Ugh, I’m trying so hard not to punch you, you immature _weirdo_.”

Hero finds himself laughing harder than he would have liked. He isn’t even sure why. None of that was funny. But he’s laughing and his ribs are sore.

Basil flinches beside him and he freezes, insides cool.

“Sorry,” Basil whispers.

“Sorry,” Hero replies.

Kel clears his throat. “Uh. Anyways? Anyways, Basil, check it out. My succ-u-cactus has got other little, like, _baby_ flowers waiting to come out. Still! Even after all those other flowers. How nuts is that?”

“O-oh. Buds. Yeah. Cool.” Basil shifts toward him, inspecting the cactus. The succulent. Whatever it is.

Aubrey stares at Hero. He curls his hands in his lap. Loosely. They aren’t fists.

“Yeah! And you said something about pruning, right? Is that a thing, here? Should I do that or?”

“Um. No... Not right now. So, pruning is--”

Aubrey stands up and walks out of the room. The front door shuts.

Kel and Basil stare at the space she vacated.

“I’ll go check on her.” Hero is quick to volunteer, standing up. He doesn’t want to check on her. But he should. He always does what he should do.

“Okay. Good luck. She’s been in a weird mood lately,” Kel says.

Basil frowns, but he doesn’t say anything. He’s too afraid to say anything.

 _Good,_ part of Hero thinks. He wishes he could strangle the noxious, vindictive creature that lives inside of him.

“I’ll be right back,” he promises, moving toward the front door.

\- - -

 **kel** • _12/18/XX_

bro are you coming home for Xmas??

**Hero** • _12/18/XX_

Yeah, I’ll be in on the 21st. Are you going be there to pick me up from the train station?

**kel** • _12/18/XX_

Nah Mom won’t let me come.

**kel** • _12/20/XX_

Ugh. Mom is a wreck. She tries so hard to impress you.

**Hero** • _12/20/XX_

I wish she wouldn’t do that...

**kel** • _12/20/XX_

Me too. she made me clean the toilet bowls. YUCK

**Hero** • _12/20/XX_

Did you actually do it or just say you did?

**kel** • _12/20/XX_

...you got me lol

**Hero** • _12/20/XX_

It’s fine. I’ll do it when I get home.

**kel** • _12/20/XX_

You’re the best brother in the world.

**Hero** • _12/20/XX_

:)

\- - -

“I think I might be, um. Bisexual,” Aubrey tells him.

Well, that’s one way to start a conversation.

“Oh. Okay,” Hero replies with all the fumbling social grace of a newborn foal. He tries to right himself. “That’s...great, Aubrey. Thanks for sharing that with me.”

She eyes him, frowning.

He smiles back, sitting beside her on the cement stoop.

“Kel doesn’t know,” she says.

“Oh! Okay.” Oh. Okay. Oh. Okay. Jeez, he’s such an idiot. “Um. Well, you can tell anyone you want at your own pace, you know? That’s your choice.”

“He told me you’re trans.”

He blinks. The smile doesn’t wane.

Aubrey kicks at the dirt, scowling. “I mean. I knew, before. We’ve known each other for years. But like. Kel thinks he knows stuff about people, so he just _talks_ without a single fuc-- frickin’ thought and he’s just. He’s so _stupid_ and I think he thinks he knows what’s going on with me--that’s why he makes fun of me and Kim, even though we’re just _friends_ and--whatever. Whatever. Forget about it. It’s stupid.”

“It’s not stupid,” he says patiently. “You’re not stupid, Aubrey. And Kel’s not stupid, either. He just...he’s probably just trying to get you to open up. He’s not good at stuff like that. Not in the way that...that people like you might prefer.”

She doesn’t look up.

This isn’t a conversation she should be having with him. This is a conversation she should be having someone she trusts more, with--

Hero feels so tired.

“Well, thanks for sharing that with me, Aubrey,” he says, trying not to sound as awful as he feels. He succeeds.

She shrugs. “I just had to tell someone. And I know you’re, you know. You’re trans. So you’d be okay with it. So I told you.”

“Ah.”

“When did you know?” she asks.

“Huh? Um. You mean, when did I know I was trans?”

“Yeah.”

He shrugs, shifting on the cement. He isn’t equipped for these kinds of conversations. He doesn’t... He isn’t... He’s been very fortunate, growing up, and he’s done everything in his power to remain fortunate. Perfection served as a sort of armor. No one could touch him if he was smart enough or nice enough or... Or.

Well. He’d never actually been perfect. Hero knows that. He’d tried, though. He shrugs, clearing his throat. “I guess I always kind of knew? I’m not sure if it’s anything like being bi or gay or anything. I’m probably not much help. Sorry.”

“Your parents seem so okay with everything.”

He never gave them a reason not to be okay with him. He never allowed that. But, like he said. Fortunate. Hero’s been exceptionally fortunate in some regards. “Well... I think they were just relieved I wasn’t gay.”

Aubrey stares at the grass.

“Not that there’s anything wrong with that,” he says, waving a hand as if that’ll shoo his idiocy away. “Being gay is totally okay. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with it.”

Aubrey leans onto her knees. “You liked Mari,” she says.

His stomach is cold and hollow. “Yeah.”

“Mari knew you were trans, too.”

“I mean. ...Yeah.” Neither of them ever said anything about it, though. Hero knew Mari liked boys and Mari knew he liked girls. But they never mentioned it. He’d never really talked about it with anyone, outside of his parents in four incredibly tense discussions, and with the two gender therapists he had to visit. The doctors never spoke for long.

Mari knew, though. Of course. She’d met him under a different name, after all. Way back in elementary school. Mari was the girl with the neat, long hair. He remembers that, even now. He always thought Mari was pretty.

Hero swallows, closing his eyes. Wills away a wave of pain. It’s all mental. He knows that. It’s all mental; the whole thing is mental. What’s happened has happened. The past is the past.

“Do you think she’d be okay with me?”

He opens his eyes. Aubrey isn’t looking at him, still. Her words hold a raw, tightly strung vulnerability. “Of course,” he says softly. “Mari loved you, Aubrey. She loved everything about you. She’d be very happy you told her.”

She shoots to her feet, twisting away from him.

Maybe he said the wrong thing.

He can’t regret it, though. Because it’s true.

“Hero.”

He looks up. Aubrey stands awkwardly by the front door, fingers curling into fists.

“Mari liked you too,” she says. “I always wished you two dated for real.”

Hero opens his mouth, but she quickly retreats back into the house.

He sits there, alone with the breeze. Gaping at empty space.

That’s... That’s _mean_ , Aubrey. Just leaving him like that. Saying something like that and walking away. It’s... It’s _so_ ** _mean._**

Hero finds himself laughing again. He laughs until he doubles over, aching ribs running out of air.

\- - -

Their mother fusses over him at the train station. She untucks and tucks his scarf back under his jacket. “Call us when you get there,” she says, stepping back.

“Of course, Mom.”

He gives Kel a tight side-hug, pressing his check against the side of his head. He’s officially the shorter brother, now. Five-foot-seven doesn’t seem so impressive anymore.

_I’m not perfect._

He plants a quick kiss on Kel’s check.

“Ew! Hero!”

He laughs, pulls away. “See you in the spring, Kel.”

“Yeah! I’ll be like a foot taller than you by then!”

Hero waves, wearing his smile like a shield. “Probably. Thanks for having me, Mom and Dad! Bye, Sally! I’ll see you soon.”

“Bye, Hero,” their mother blubbers, wiping her face. Their father nods, holding up Sally. “Be safe!”

“I will,” he promises, turning away to go to his platform.

The further he walks away, the looser the knot in his chest unravels. Until, as he steps onto the train, he breathes easily again.

\- - -

 **Sunny** • _today at 3:42am_

Hi.

\- - -

Hero finds his limbs jittering during the first day of lecture. One word. _Hi._ One word, but one word is more than enough. Sunny’s alive. Sunny’s okay.

Maybe not okay, Hero has no idea if he’s okay, but he _is_ alive. He’s _alive._ Relief pools in his stomach, oily and ready to be set ablaze by any stray spark of anxiety.

Sunny. Sunny replied to him. He has no idea how to proceed. He has no idea how to not screw this up. He’d replied in a rush that morning, as if somehow he’d lose his window to respond and Sunny would once agains slip through his fingers like a minnow.

**Hero** • _today at 8:01am_

Hi, Sunny!

That was six hours ago. No response.

Hero presses his face into his fists, gritting his teeth.

He screwed up.

\- - -

He often thinks about Mari at night, when he can’t control where his thoughts take him. Memories, sometimes. Nonsense, other times. Mari smiling, Mari laughing, Mari crying. All the human activities he’ll never see her partake in ever again.

Most of the time, Hero dreams, though. Sometimes, he dreams that Mari is still alive. Those are the second-worst dreams. The worst dreams are dreams where he forgets Mari died.

Sometimes, he dreams that he wakes up and his life is absolutely perfect. His family is perfect, his friends are perfect, his body is perfect. He wakes up on Mari’s couch and he goes into the kitchen to make breakfast, but she’s already there.

“I’m thinking pancakes,” she says. “You can make them, right? I only know how to do it out of the box, but you do all kinds of fancy stuff.”

“It’s just recipes,” he replies, scratching his neck.

Mari laughs. “But you can actually follow them! The only thing I can make is cookies, and anybody can make cookies.”

“Your cookies are the best, though,” he argues. Because they are the best.

“They’re not fancy like yours. They’re just chocolate chip.”

“Yours are made with love.”

Mari laughs again. Her laugh sounds exactly the same as the last laugh. He doesn’t realize that this is strange, because it’s that kind of dream. The cruel kind.

“We should get you some more cookbooks,” she says, leaning against his shoulder as he cracks some eggs into a bowl. “You need to complete your training to become the perfect house-husband!”

He laughs. “I don’t think I’m anywhere close to becoming the perfect house-husband.”

“Oh, any girl would be lucky to have you as you are, Hero.”

He shakes his head. “You know I’ve only got eyes for you, Mari.”

She crinkles her nose, pulling away. “Gross, Hero.” But she’s still smiling.

They always flirted. Always. It never went further than that, though.

No.

He blinks. The pancakes are suddenly done. Dreams are like that.

Kel and Aubrey rub their eyes, whining about the hour. It’s ten, but they act like it’s six. Mari has piano tutoring at twelve.

“Wow, these are really good!” Kel chirps, shoveling another pancake into his mouth. “You should be a chef, Hero!”

“I don’t think so,” he says. “--Close your mouth when you chew, Kel.”

“You should,” Mari agrees. “You love it so much, so you should do it.”

“I just like doing things for people. It’s not worth much if no one eats it.”

“Well you’re in luck, because I’ll eat your food forever!”

He laughs in tandem with Mari’s facsimile laugh. Aubrey smiles at them. Kel continues to shovel food into his face, oblivious.

Basil stumbles through the entryway, stretching. “S-sorry, I slept in.”

“It’s fine,” Hero tells him. “We’ve got tons of pancakes under the foil. Syrup, too. Drinks are in the fridge.”

“Great, thanks,” Basil says with a smile.

And then Sunny sidles in behind him, lurking like a pale shadow.

Hero blinks. Everyone is at the table, eating breakfast. Dreams are like that.

“My parents want me to be a doctor,” he says to no one and everyone.

“You should do what you want to do!” Mari insists. Something he’s heard a million times, all in the past. Never again. “You never do what you want to do, Hero. You should really learn how to say no to people.”

“They don’t want me to be a doctor,” Kel says, pushing more food into his mouth. “They know I’d be terrible at it.”

“You’d be a really good doctor, Kel,” Hero says. “You’re really caring.”

“Yeah, but I’m _dumb.”_

Before he can retort (Kel isn’t _dumb)_ , he freezes.

Sunny stares at him from across the table, a one-eyed ghoul.

Sunny on his lap, bleeding out over his shirt. Pressing his hands around the cavity of his eye, just blindly trying to stem some of the blood flow but knowing it’s useless. They both reek of copper and vomit. “Hang on, Sunny,” escapes his mouth, a dream of a memory. His voice sounds so steady, authoritative. Perfect doctor material. “Hang on. Aubrey called 9-1-1. Hang on.”

And Sunny shakes his head. _No._ Just like he’d shook his head before. Hero feels incredibly small at that, so out of control. There was nothing he could do.

Nothing.

Sunny, staring over him at the top of a long staircase, his eye gleaming with disdain.

Sunny looks down on him as Mari’s limp body hangs heavy between his thighs. Her jaw wrenched open, unseeing eyes trained on the ceiling. Her face is purple from asphyxiation, fat tongue hanging from between her lips like an oily chrysalis, neck mottled with old blood that’s collected in her throat and her feet. Mari’s little feet. Mari...

“I didn’t mean to do it,” Sunny says, his one eye glittering like a star in the low light.

When Hero wakes up, he turns his head toward his long-suffering waste bin and vomits thin strings of bile.

\- - -

He doesn’t think about her, most days.

Really.

\- - -

 **Hero** • _today at 1:48am_

Can we talk sometime? Sorry if I’m being pushy. We don’t need to talk.

**Hero** • _today at 1:56am_

Actually, yeah. I pushed too hard there. Forget I said anything! Happy to hear from you, Sunny.

**Sunny** • _today at 4:05am_

Sure.

**Sunny** • _today at 4:07am_

We can talk.

\- - -

Hero brushes his hair, before the call. It looks worse than if he’d just left it alone. He ruffles his head in defeat and sits at his desk. It doesn’t matter; it’s not like Sunny will be able to see him, anyways.

Sunny had given him a time to meet up on AIM. Apparently his mom has the unlimited call plan or something. Sunny hadn’t really elaborated. That’s fine. Hero doesn’t really care, anyways.

He drums his fingers on his desk, listening to the computer’s hard drive click every so often. Moving this thing out here had been a pain, but Mom and Dad had insisted on it. He’s always gotten nice things from them. It makes him feel guilty.

The dial-tone drags him out of his thoughts.

“Hi, Sunny,” he says quickly, readjusting himself on the chair.

Silence.

“Um.”

The AIM chat pings.

_I’m here. Hi._

“Uh. Hi.” He swallows.

Silence.

Bubbles pop up in the chat.

Wow. This is so uncomfortable.

_You wanted to talk?_

“Uh. Yeah. I did.”

_Okay._

“Just wondering how you’ve been.” He lets loose an awkward chuckle. “Haven’t heard from you, so. You know.”

Bubbles.

They stop.

Bubbles again.

They stop.

For a moment, Hero wishes he had the luxury of being able to simply delete his words and start over, too. Then he feels ashamed that he felt that way. Sunny’s always struggled with things, but he understands the past years have been... Well.

Worse. They’ve been worse for everyone.

_I’m okay._

All that time, just for that response.

_I hope you’re okay, too._

“I’m okay, yeah,” he says. “Of course. And I’m glad you’re okay, Sunny. If you need anything, don’t hesitate to let me know, alright?”

_Okay._

He can hear the doubt laced through that single word even without accompanying inflection.

This is such a nothing conversation.

But Sunny’s on the line. Sunny’s here. Alive. And that’s what counts. The content doesn’t matter at all.

_I’ve got to go._

Already?

Just like that?

“I don’t want to lose anyone else,” escapes Hero’s throat, rushed and anxious. It’s something he certainly shouldn’t be confessing to Sunny, not now and not ever. His voice sounds pathetic to his own ears, plaintive and painfully young. He’s twenty. He’s supposed to be the responsible one in this little group; he’s supposed to hold them together because he’s an _adult_ now and they’re all still just kids.

Bubbles pop up in the chat.

Then they stop.

His heart sinks. “I. I’m not going to say that I’m okay with everything,” he continues, because he just has to fill the dead air, has to _keep Sunny on the line._ “I’m not going to lie, okay? I won’t lie about any of it. Most days are hard. But they were hard, before. They’re just...they’re hard in a different way, now. But Sunny. I.” He swallows. His throat feels tight and hot. _“Sunny._ We’re in this together.”

Bubbles.

Then:

_You don’t have to forgive me._

“I don’t.” He freezes as soon as the words leave his lips. He hadn’t meant to say that. Hadn’t even thought the words or what they mean. They just came out.

_Good._

He stares at that word, shame slimy in his gut. He has no idea how to walk this back. Isn’t sure if he can or even if he should.

Because...he doesn’t forgive Sunny, no. It’s not an issue he’s allowed himself to think about. It’s one of those many, many unpleasant things he’s learned to keep locked up and away from anyone who could get hurt.

But it’s true. He doesn’t forgive Sunny.

The realization leaves him cold. He feels ill with himself. With Sunny. With _everyone._

His blood throbs in his head.

Bubbles.

They stop.

Bubbles again.

Hero feels dizzy.

_I do need to go. Thanks for speaking to me._

“Um. Can we-- I mean. Sunny. I... I’d just. Like to talk again. Sometime. Even just small messages or-- Or. ...I just want to know you’re still here.” He cringes at his own voice.

Bubbles.

_Sure._

The call ends. Hero presses his forehead to his desk.

\- - -

That was the worst way he could have possibly handled that.

Really.

He’s the worst.

\- - -

That night, Hero digs through his pot of dirt, cupping fistfuls and dropping them on his socked feet. He covers his floor. He wouldn’t be able to explain it to anyone if asked; it’s just something he does to fulfill a vindictive, painful impulse.

He finds the seeds in the same state he planted them.

His plant fucking died. The marigold. It didn’t even sprout.

Well.

Hero’s head hits his pillow, dirt scattered around his bedspread and caught in his hair. He stares at the ceiling.

“I’m perfect,” he says dully and feels imperfect.

He committed plant infanticide. What a fucking piece of shit.

_I don’t._

What a fucking **_piece of shit._**

Ugh.

The last thing Mari ever experienced was a fight with her brother. That’s the last thing she got to do before she died.

What will be the last thing Sunny does? Sees? Hears?

_I don’t._

Hero grits his teeth. He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly.

Just calm down.

Calm down.

_Calm. Down._

The plant’s dead.

He killed it.

He killed the fucking plant.

He’s going to have a meltdown, just like he knew he would.

Because of course it had to die, right? Of course.

At least he’s alone. At least he can have a breakdown in the privacy of his single dorm room. Because he’s not allowed to room with boys and he can’t will himself to room with girls.

Fuck.

Hero lets himself fall apart. Just for a little bit.

\- - -

Hero lies at the bottom of a flight of stairs. Mari’s living room. It’s night.

A dream, then.

Sunny raises his fist over him, empty socket and dead eye fixated beneath him. His fingers grasp a pair of pruning shears.

Hero sees his own hands rise from his sides, reaching for Sunny.

They wrap around his neck and squeeze.

\- - -

**Flower Chat**

**kel** • _today at 11:10am_

School is so hard. :/

**Aubrey** • _today at 11:20am_

It wouldn’t be if you actually studied.

**kel** • _today at 11:20am_

if you’re so smart will you do my math homeowrk?

**Aubrey** • _today at 11:22am_

Absolutely not. Dumbass.

**Basil** • _today at 12:05pm_

I can help you, Kel, if you want.

**Basil** • _today at 12:05pm_

But it’s okay if you don’t want me to. That’s fine. I totally understand.

**kel** • _today at 12:13pm_

That would be awesome, thank you Basil!!! Good to know who my friends are.

**Aubrey** • _today at 12:20pm_

Ugh XU

**kel** • _today at 12:24pm_

What does XU mean

**Aubrey** • _today at 12:24pm_

It’s a face! >:|

**kel** • _today at 12:24pm_

What kind of face is that lol

**Aubrey** • _today at 12:25pm_

It’s an ANGRY face, Kel. Leave me alone!!

**kel** • _today at 12:25pm_

Then stop replying lol XU

**Aubrey** • _today at 12:25pm_

UGHHH

\- - -

School drags on as it always does. Hero is meticulous; even if he doesn’t get an A every time, he’s almost certain to get a net 4.0 by the end of the semester.

Almost. Not for sure. So he keeps working.

Sometimes, Sunny messages him. Not every day or anything, but he does reply to Hero’s prodding. Simple statements like _yes, no, okay._ Things like that.

And it’s... It’s good. Hero appreciates it. Really. Every drop of English tells him that Sunny is alive. Sunny’s here, on the same Earth at him, still breathing and going about his business.

He wonders if anything really changed in Sunny’s life, after that day. Maybe he’s just sleeping in a new bed, holed up in a new prison. The thought bothers him.

But then again, what has changed in Hero’s life? He’s still keeping on as he always did. The pain is just surface-level again. That’s the only real difference. He feels sixteen again and he hates it.

 _I don’t want to lose anyone else._ It’s true. He doesn’t. He really, really doesn’t. It’s not simple to explain, either. A simple explanation would be: Sunny is the only thing he has left of Mari, the only thing he has left of whatever past life he enjoyed.

But that isn’t why he said that. Not totally.

Hero isn’t sure. If one more person he loves dies, he might just go insane. That’s part of it.

Because he does love Sunny. He cares about what happens to him.

But Sunny also scares him. _Hero_ scares himself when he thinks of Sunny. He won’t interrogate why. Doesn’t _want_ to know why. He’s afraid of the answer.

...

It’s a tangled, thorny issue.

One he doesn’t want to unravel. Loosening the knot might loosen all of him at once, and he can’t afford that. Not now. Maybe not ever.

He lies in bed and stares at his clock, most nights. 11:00pm. 11:01pm. The pot sits next to the blinking display, dirt disturbed, nothing growing. He can’t find the will to toss it. He doesn’t know why.

\- - -

Really. He just doesn’t think about her.

\- - -

Sunny dies. In his dreams, at least. Sunny lies outside the hospital, body crumpled and crushes on the sidewalk.

Hero’s grabbing at his shoulders, trying to pick him up, but he keeps disintegrating. Sifting through his fingers like loose clumps of dirt.

As he keeps bending down to pick up Sunny’s disappearing body, he realizes how much Sunny looks like Mari. Just like Mari, in some ways. Same skin, same hair, same eyes.

Eye.

It blinks up at him and Hero recoils. He watches Sunny’s body sink into the ground and disappear forever.

When Hero wakes up, sheets sticking to his sweat-coated skin, he stares at his ceiling until the sun rises.

Carefully, he doesn’t think about anything.

\- - -

 **Sunny** • _today at 2:34am_

Did your flowers grow?

**Hero** • _today at 7:06am_

No, they didn’t. Guess I messed up! Oh well. Aubrey’s and Kel’s look great, though. I’m sure you saw the pictures in the group chat.

**Sunny** • _today at 11:01am_

Okay.

\- - -

Spring break comes quickly. Hero’d been so obsessed with his midterms, he forgot breaks even existed. But they do, and he’s packing again. The computer keeps blipping with messages, making the process much slower than he would have preferred.

What’s the rush? No idea. He just doesn’t like packing that much. It’s an item on his checklist. Hero gets his chores done, no matter what they are.

**kel** • _today at 6:04pm_

Are you bringing all your books again?

**Hero** • _today at 6:05pm_

Yeah. I have to study.

**kel** • _today at 6:07pm_

Ewwww bro. It’s just a week. I think you can take a break. :P

**Hero** • _today at 6:13pm_

I have homework.

**kel** • _today at 6:13pm_

Seriously??? Wow I dont want to go to college.

**Hero** • _today at 6:13pm_

It’ll be worth it when I graduate.

**kel** • _today at 6:14pm_

Yeah so you can be a boring doctor working crazy hours. Yuck

**Hero** • _today at 6:14pm_

Kel.

**kel** • _today at 6:16pm_

You should be a cook or something!!

**Hero** • _today at 6:21pm_

We’ll talk about it later.

They’re never going to talk about it. Kel should know that. Hero already does enough things he doesn’t want to do. He doesn’t plan to add this conversation to the list.

\- - -

Kel clings to him before he can make it halfway through the door. “Sally’s turned into a terror!” he complains, swinging Hero around like he weighs nothing. “We put locks on all the cabinets.”

Everyone’s growing so much. Hero feels the same as he ever has.

He laughs, trying to extricate himself from Kel’s grasp. “Wow. I’ve missed a lot in three months, huh?”

“Not too much,” Kel says. “All the flowers fell off of my cactus! Basil says that’s normal, though.”

“Well, things can’t flower forever.”

“Psh. I wish they would. Now it’s just a boring plant again.”

“They’ll come back next Christmas, right?” Hero slides past him to set his backpack down. “So you’ve got something to look forward to.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“Hero!” Their mother darts into the room, hair windswept. “It’s so good to have you home again!”

He accepts her tight hug as their father enters behind him. “Alright, alright, give him some breathing room.”

She pats Hero’s back, pulling away. “Kel picked up some subs from Gino’s.”

“Oh. Wow, thanks.” Kel smiles at him from behind her. Hero has the presence of mind to smile back. “Um. I better put my stuff away before I forget. I’ll be down in a second.”

“Okay!” their mother says. “I still need to set the table, anyways.”

“For subs?” their father asks.

“Well, we need plates, don’t we?”

“I’ll help Hero bring his stuff upstairs!” Kel says quickly. “We’ll be right back down, Mom.”

She waves at them, turning toward the kitchen. Hero sees Sally clinging to the doorframe, staring at him like he’s a stranger.

Well. He is.

“Where’s your plant?” Kel asks, flanking him on his way up the stairs.

Hero clenches the railing, making sure his feet are firmly planted on each step. He shrugs. “It died.”

“Aw man. That sucks!”

“It’s just a flower, Kel. It’s fine.”

Kel frowns at him.

The air feels strangely serious for whatever reason.

“I’m really sorry, bro.”

Hero blinks. “It’s really just a flower, Kel. It’s okay.”

“Sure, yeah.” Kel falls in line with him, opening their bedroom door like a bellhop welcoming an esteemed guest.

Hero sets his backpack on his bed.

“But it was kind of a friendship project,” Kel says from the entrance. “So I’d be pretty bummed if my flower died like that. Like a weird omen or something.”

Hero opens his mouth. He watches Kel slip out of the room and down the stairs.

Who the hell says that and then leaves?

He closes his mouth, glowering at the doorway for a moment. Then he closes his eyes and smooths out his face. Don’t get mad at Kel. Don’t _ever_ get mad at Kel.

Kel’s one of the only people he has in his life. And he loves him very much. So he won’t get mad at Kel. Kel means well. He just... He’s probably trying to get him to open up in his own way, or whatever, but it’s... It’s _so..._

Hero takes a deep breath and he counts backwards from ten slowly. He finishes at negative twenty before he’s ready to go downstairs.

\- - -

**Flower Chat**

**kel** • _today at 12:01pm_

Thinking about a new name for the chat.

**kel** • _today at 12:02pm_

Thinkign: Flower Power. Flower Boyz. Flower Friends. Something.

**Aubrey** • _today at 12:05pm_

You are so stupid.

**Aubrey** • _today at 12:05pm_

Also, we’re not all boys here, remember?

**kel** • _today at 12:06pm_

Boys? no. BOYZ? definitely. It’s gender neutral. :P

**Aubrey** • _today at 12:06pm_

You. Are. Insufferable.

**kel** • _today at 12:06pm_

Nice SAT word lol

**kel** • _today at 12:08pm_

Anyways, Hero wants me to ask if we wanna meet up for flowers or just to talk. He’s in town for spring break. I think I messaged that before?

**Aubrey** • _today at 12:09pm_

WHAT?

**Aubrey** • _today at 12:09pm_

No you didn’t!!!! KEL!!!!!!

\- - -

Aubrey’s zinnias have come and gone, but Basil took pictures to share. They do look lovely. Rich magenta with a yellow perimeter along the center.

Hero wonders if his flowers would have looked as nice if they’d grown.

Polly’s in the kitchen with Kel and Aubrey, making lunch. Kel had volunteered Hero to help her, but Aubrey had started to yell at him. Hero hadn’t said a word. He appreciated the distraction.

“Kel! That’s _so_ much salt. Yuck!”

“What, you don’t like salt? I go through like half a bottle of soy sauce a week.”

“That’s _disgusting.”_

Basil watches them from the couch, rapt. As if this is some amazing show and he’s been privileged with front-row tickets. As if he’s grateful just to be in the same room.

“Maybe we should leave them to it,” Hero murmurs.

Basil starts, waking up from his reverie. “Ah. Yeah, I guess so.” He stands up on unsteady legs. “I should... I’ve got to water some plants in my bedroom.”

“Gotcha. Mind if I tag along?”

A reluctant nod allows Hero to follow him into the hallway, farther away from Kel and Aubrey’s squabbling.

Basil hesitates for a moment, before pushing the door open.

It looks the same as it had before that night when he’d pulled Basil off of Sunny’s mangled face. Hero’s fingers twitch at the thought, muscles tightening in preparation for a ghost of a fight.

This is the floor where Hero had smashed Basil’s nose in, but here they are, standing together like it didn’t happen.

“Right,” Basil mutters to no one. He picks up a pair of shears.

Hero’s body thrums.

“Is this okay?”

He smiles. “Of course, Basil.”

Basil blinks at him, before turning away, brandishing the scissors. “I. I like taking care of things,” he says, clipping a stem off a plant. Right. A safe topic. Always stay with the safe topics. “Plants, they can’t move. They’re depending on you for everything. So. Ah, I guess it’s a lot of pressure, but it makes me feel... I don’t know.”

“Needed?” Hero ventures.

Basil shrugs. “Yeah.”

He can relate to that.

Even if he failed. Even if he killed them.

“They were old seeds.” Basil squeezes his eyes shut. “Th-the marigolds. I shouldn’t have given them to you. I, um. I should have given you something else.”

“It’s fine,” Hero says. It doesn’t feel fine. But it should be fine. They’re just flowers. 

He hates this room.

“Well. I’m still sorry.”

“It’s fine, Basil.”

“Hero, I.” He stops. The scissors shine in the daylight, dangling by his side. “I really appreciate that you’re so nice to me.” He shakes his head, scrunching his face up. “I-I just mean. I know we all have...feelings about...what happened. And I just. I’m thankful that everyone’s trying. E-even if it doesn’t work out.”

Even if it doesn’t work out.

The thought hadn’t occurred to Hero. He doesn’t plan for failure.

_You don’t get it. You’re perfect._

“I think Kel’s flower idea is good,” he says, unsure what else he can really say.

“Um. Yeah. I think so too...”

“It keeps us talking. I think that’s important.”

“Yeah.”

Talking about flowers. Sometimes school. Safe, bland topics. Is that really progress? Hero doesn’t know. He isn’t a psychologist and he’s still a far ways from being a doctor.

But he feels like it’s progress. Talking helps. It really does. Just seeing confirmation that they’re all still here, that they all still know each other. It feels solid. Real. This is the Basil he’s always known, not the nightmare he fought with on this floor, earlier last year. The group chat reminds him of that, every time Basil contributes. _This_ is the Basil he used to be friends with. _This_ is the Basil he’d like to be friends with again.

Not some monster haunting his dreams.

“...Too bad Sunny doesn’t really talk in the group chat.” Introducing the topic is dangerous, but Hero’s willing to walk it back if he has to. That’s fine.

Basil freezes. “Ah. Yeah.”

Hero takes a seat on the edge of his bed. “I think it’d be nice just to hear from him more. Because it’s been good to hear from you, Basil. I... It helps me. Put things into context.” And it does.

It does, it just. It’s still... Hard.

Basil nods, biting his lip. “Thank you for, um. For giving me another chance. I know I don’t...deserve it. But. It means a lot to me.”

He isn’t sure how to respond to that. _You’re welcome? No problem? Of course?_ None of that suffices. “You’re our friend,” he settles on. It’s true. Basil is their friend. Basil is _his_ friend.

Basil issues a wobbly sigh. “Sunny kind of reminds me of flowers.” He trails off. “Or. He used to. I know that’s weird.”

“I guess everyone can be related to a flower, right? Poets do stuff like that.”

“Um. Yeah, I guess they do.”

“So it’s not weird,” Hero says. “If Shakespeare did it, then I’d think you’re given license to do it, too.

“I, um. I guess. --I think he beats himself up a lot.” Basil twists his fingers together. “And I worry about him.”

“Does he talk to you?”

He blinks at him. “Sunny?”

“Yeah. I mean. Do you guys message?”

Basil’s eyes return to the safety of the floor. “No.”

“...Oh.” Oh.

Basil’s shoulders shudder. “I don’t think he wants to talk to me.”

“I don’t know about that.” Hero lightly kicks at the floor, watching his socked foot slide over the wood. “I worry about him, too.”

Basil looks up again. Hero doesn’t meet his eyes.

“I think we all do,” he continues. “Um. So I try to message him. And I know Kel does, too. And if I were Sunny--” If he were Sunny, if he were Sunny, he wouldn’t be able to live with-- “--I’d... I think I’d appreciate knowing I still had my friends.”

Basil sighs, a fragile gust of air. “I miss him,” he says. “I miss him _so much.”_

“Yeah. I miss him, too.” It surprises Hero, that he means it. He does miss Sunny. He misses Sunny, but he’s also glad he isn’t around. “Maybe he’ll come back to town sometime.” Hero sincerely hopes he doesn’t.

“Maybe.” Basil hesitates. “Ah. Sorry. If this is awful, just tell me, but--”

“You can say whatever you want, Basil.” Hero offers a reassuring smile that he doesn’t feel. A clockwork motion.

“Well. I. I think he doesn’t...feel welcome.”

Why _would_ Sunny feel welcome? He k--

He.

Well. He destroyed their friend group. There. That’s one way to put it.

“He is,” Hero says. “He’s welcome, I mean. Just like you’re welcome, Basil. Because...” Because even if you’re a fucked up piece of shit, sometimes-- “We’re all in this together, right?”

Basil gives him an insincere smile. It’s a very polite expression.

Inside, part of Hero breaks apart. He doesn’t know what. Maybe it’s something that’s been broken so many times that breaking just feels natural, now.

Maybe that’s just something he tells himself to provide some cheap comfort.

\- - -

In his dreams, he stands by a lakeside.

There’s shouting. Screaming. And then silence.

In his dreams, he doesn’t move.

\- - -

“Um, hey, bro.”

He looks up from his flashcards, taking stock of Kel’s uncomfortable posture with bleary eyes. “Hey, Kel. What’s up?”

“Nothing much. I just, you know. I wanted to say sorry about blabbing to Aubrey about you and stuff. She said I shouldn’t do that because...” His face scrunches. “I think she said, like. That’s not my business to tell people or whatever.”

“Oh.” Hero scoots away from his desk a few inches. Kel needs reassurance. Hero will offer it. He’s the only person who does, after all. He has to. “It’s fine, Kel.”

“She was super mad!”

“Well, I’m not,” he says with a smile. “So it’s totally fine.”

Kel nods, smiling back. “Okay, okay. Cool. Aubrey’s so dumb!”

“She’s not dumb, Kel.”

“I guess. She’s just so weird about stuff. You know she’s talking to Basil, now? Like in a separate, private chat.”

No, he hadn’t known that. “Huh. Well, that’s probably good, right?”

Kel shrugs. “I dunno. What if she’s just bullying him in private or something?”

Hero isn’t sure is ‘bullying’ is the appropriate term, considering what she could be discussing with him. “They seem fine when we’re all together.”

“Yeah. I guess.” Kel sighs. “Sorry about the trans thing, though. Aubrey got super mad, so I hope she wasn’t a jerk about it.”

“She was fine. I think she’s just stressed, Kel. Maybe you should give her a little space.”

“I’ve been giving people space!” His arms flop at his sides, frowning. “I’ve been giving everybody space for _years!”_

Hero blinks.

Kel takes a step away from his desk. “Especially you. But like-- I get it. I don’t want to upset you, you know?”

His stomach drops. “Kel...”

“No, no. It’s fine. Right? Like. That was one time. I don’t mean to-- Man, this is coming out wrong. I didn’t mean to bother you about this, I was just trying to apologize, I.” Kel knuckles his forehead. “Ugh.”

“It’s fine, Kel.” Hero reaches out, unable to bridge the gap between them. “I’m not upset. I... I won’t ever be upset with you, ever again, okay? You can talk to me. You’re my little brother, Kel. You can come to me with anything.”

“Yeah. I know. Thanks, Hero.”

Hero smiles. Kel doesn’t smile back.

\- - -

A memory that morphs and changes whenever his psyche needs new ammunition to torture him.

Kel just rattling off all of this shit, fumbling over his words while a white-hot frustration swells in Hero’s gut. _Oh, you’re_ ** _worried_** _about me? Oh, you think you know what’s_ ** _best_** _for me? Really, Kel? You-- You think you know what **Mari** would have wanted? Are you _**_fucking KIDDING ME?_**

Kel’s crying. He scared Kel. He screamed at Kel and now Kel’s crying and their parents are crying, but Kel’s crying alone and Hero did that. He hurt him. He hurt the only person left in his life, he did that.

He hurt him because he felt hurt. That’s how it works, doesn’t it? Harm begets harm. All the pain inside of him had just lashed out as it always did but, instead of targeting Hero as it always had, it went for the first available target.

“I’m sorry,” he remembers blubbering into Kel’s hair, grabbing at his shoulders like he’ll disintegrate if he lets go. “I’m _sorry,_ Kel.”

He remembers standing over Kel, weeping.

 _I need to get over this,_ he remembers thinking. _I won’t hurt people like this ever again. No matter what._

At the time, he had no idea what he was trying to give up.

\- - -

 **Sunny** • _03/15/XX_

Hi.

**Hero** • _03/15/XX_

Hey, Sunny! What’s up?

**Sunny** • _03/20/XX_

Nothing.

\- - -

“Oh. You got a letter, today, Hero.”

“A letter,” Hero echoes. He doesn’t get many letters, especially at home. Most of his mail gets forwarded to his dorm, these days.

His mother nods, sliding an envelope across the dining room table. It’s a bit thick, but not overly so. Not as thick as his scholarship letters, at least.

Hero slides his finger under the lip, tearing it open.

The inside of the envelope contains a blank card and a pressed purple flower.

\- - -

A memory of Mari picking eggshells out of a bowl. She’s wiping her face with her wrist.

“Why’re you crying?” Hero remembers asking.

“Because I messed up.”

“They’re just eggshells; it’s not a big deal, Mari.”

“Well, it’s a big deal to me!” she snaps.

They both freeze. Mari’s eyes are wide, teeth gritted. She’s been crying.

Mari always puts herself under so much pressure.

Hero knows that. He can relate, after all.

“Okay. Then it’s a big deal.” He shuffles next to her. “You mind if I help?”

“I should just start over,” she mutters.

“If you want to, that’s fine too. You don’t need to do everything right the first time, Mari.”

“Easy for you to say. You’re perfect.”

He laughs, scooping some shell out of the bowl. “I’m not perfect.”

She smiles. “You’re right. You’re definitely not.” Her shoulder bumps into him. “But that doesn’t mean you can’t _Mister Perfect_ for some lucky lady, someday.”

“Only if it’s you, Mari.”

She laughs. Mari had so many different types of laughs, when she was alive. “Be careful what you wish for. You keep offering to fix my baking screw-ups and you might be stuck with me.”

He shakes his head, waggling his slimy hands over the sink. “You can’t be stuck with someone you want to be with, Mari.”

In the morning light, she looks so pretty. Mari has always been pretty. Like someone out of a dream.

This isn’t a dream, though. It’s a memory. It was real.

For a time, this was his life.

For a time, it was Mari’s life, too.

\- - -

_FLOWER.jpg_

**Hero** • _today at 2:05pm_

Hey, Basil. What kind of flower is this?

**Basil** • _today at 3:30pm_

That’s a hyacinth. It looks a little crushed.

**Hero** • _today at 3:35pm_

I got it in a letter.

**Basil** • _today at 3:36pm_

In a letter? From who?

**Hero** • _today at 3:36pm_

It didn’t say.

**Basil** • _today at 3:36pm_

There wasn’t a return address?

**Hero** • _today at 3:37pm_

There was, just no name.

**Hero** • _today at 4:45pm_

I’m pretty sure Sunny sent it.

\- - -

On the train ride back to school, _away from Faraway Town,_ Hero rolls the flower between his fingers, studying the way light hits the deep purple hues. Such a fragile thing.

He knows, in his heart, that Sunny sent it. This hyacinth.

So he did get the seeds. Assuming that’s what Basil gave him.

Hero’s heart hurts at the thought. He isn’t sure why.

 _Why didn’t you just tell me if you got the seeds?_ he thinks.

But part of him knows why.

He leans his cheek against the cool glass of the train window. The petals are soft and velvety under his fingertips. He closes his eyes.

His heart steadies.

\- - -

In his dreams, he’s sinking. Deep into the ocean.

Drowning. Hero dreams of drowning.

Kelp brushes against his elbows, entangling with his arms. Snapping jaws hover over his body as bubbles escape his gritted teeth.

A specter floats over him, suspended by water. Flying. Diving. Reaching.

Mari’s hand is small over his, thin and pale as the waning moon.

No.

Mari is Sunny. And Hero’s the one reaching for him. Grabbing him by the collar of his shirt and dragging him toward his chest, kicking his legs as his lungs sizzle.

He shouldn’t be strong enough to drag two teen boys to shore, but he does. He did. Somehow. Choking and gasping for sweet summer air.

Mari smiles at him from the dirt, sitting with crossed legs. Her eyes crinkle. She doesn’t look a day over sixteen.

No.

Aubrey stares with stricken eyes, mouth flapping open and shut. She’s colorless with terror. “I didn’t mean to do it,” she croaks.

“Didn’t mean to--? You literally--”

“I know,” Hero reassures her, interrupting Kel. He breathes and spits on the dirt, trying to calm his heart. “I know. It’s okay, Aubrey. We need to get them somewhere warm. Polly will know what to do. Come on.”

None of this is a dream. It isn’t a nightmare. It’s a memory.

Hero still wakes up in a cold sweat.

\- - -

 **Hero** • _today at 7:08pm_

Hey, Basil. Do you know any websites about flowers?

**Basil** • _today at 7:12pm_

Yeah. I can send you some links. Is something wrong?

**Hero** • _today at 7:12pm_

No. I just think I’d like to try growing something again.

**Hero** • _today at 7:14pm_

Do you have any websites about flower meanings? I just mean, when I was a kid, my grandma had this big book about flowers. I guess they have meanings. Maybe that’s only a cultural thing, though.

**Basil** • _today at 7:17pm_

I know a site about flower meanings. I don’t know if they’re all accurate, though.

**Hero** • _today at 7:17pm_

Great, thanks so much.

**Basil** • _today at 7:18pm_

No problem. Let me know if there’s anything I can do, please.

\- - -

He’s read everything Basil sent him twice, now. Including the gaudy Angelfire site that tried to sell him healing crystals.

There’s actually a hardware shop near campus that has a whole catalog of perennial seeds and bulbs. Apparently there’s a whole community of gardeners and florists in the tri-city area or something.

Nothing really stood out to him. None that were very ‘conventional,’ he guesses. Aubrey’s zinnias were beautiful, but flowers like that don’t feel appropriate. It’s hard to explain.

He ends up picking something simple. If they turn out, they won’t be flashy. That’s okay, though.

He plants the bulbs in slightly damp, cold soil and stores them under his bed, against the wall with the window. These aren’t marigolds. He’s doing it right, this time.

He reads other books about flowers, borrowing botany and literature books from the university science library. They’re the first books he’s read that aren’t related to school or pre-med prep in years.

In the language of flowers, a purple hyacinth means “please forgive me.”

\- - -

In his dreams, Hero lies prone at the bottom of a staircase. His spine is severed. He’s alive, but he can’t speak or move at all.

Sunny is crouched over his body, weeping.

\- - -

**Flower Chat**

**Sunny** • _today at 1:31am_

I’m coming to Faraway Town, the first week of June. I have a doctor’s appointment.

**Hero** • _today at 6:04am_

Awesome! We should all meet up.

**kel** • _today at 11:04am_

Sunny!!!! :0000 :)))) :DDDD

\- - -

Hero taps at the dirt, each day. He isn’t sure why. Looking for a heartbeat, maybe.

\- - -

Mari smiles at him, hanging from a tree. One of those dreams. They aren’t cruel. They’re just painful.

“I didn’t even die like this,” she says. “Or maybe I did. Maybe Basil killed me and you’re mad at the wrong person.”

“I’m not mad at anyone,” he says.

“Hero, you don’t need to lie to me. I understand. We always understood each other, didn’t we?”

He thought they did, until he thought they didn’t at all. But now he has no idea. And it doesn’t matter anymore, anyways.

Mari smiles so sweetly. “Hero, you’re mad at _everybody.”_

\- - -

 **Basil** • _today at 7:05pm_

You just need to patient. I think they’ll start coming up soon.

**Hero** • _today at 7:09pm_

Sure thing. Thanks, Basil!

**Basil** • _today at 7:10pm_

Thanks for talking to me, Hero.

**Hero** • _today at 7:12pm_

Of course, Basil. I’m glad we can talk about things like this. I missed you.

**Basil** • _today at 7:20pm_

I still feel like we shouldn’t talk, though.

**Hero** • _today at 7:22pm_

I think it’s good to talk. We used to be great friends, remember? It just takes time, but I think we’ll all figure this out.

**Basil** • _today at 9:08pm_

Hero, I’m sorry if this is not okay to talk about but I really don’t agree. I’m sorry every day about what I did and I know Sunny’s sorry too and I just wish it had never happened but if anyone needs to take the blame it’s definitely me. It’s all my fault. Sunny didn’t even push her because I saw it. He tripped. I’m the one who did everything else and I’m just so sorry every single day. I’m a terrible person and I’m selfish and I really wish everything was how it was before it can’t be and it’s 100% my fault. So I understand if this doesn’t work and I hope that you and Kel and Aubrey can remain friends and I’m so sorry for what I did.

**Basil** • _today at 9:50pm_

Sorry.

**Hero** • _today at 11:41pm_

We’re working on it, Basil.

\- - -

At the first hint of green, his chest clenches painfully. He doesn’t know why. It isn’t excitement. Not quite. Not dread, either.

Something else.

\- - -

“Yeah, I’ll be home for summer,” Hero mumbles, curling the phone cord around his finger. “I don’t-- No, I don’t have an internship for the summer. That was only fall. No. I’m just going to be coming back in June because I’m doing some lab work for a grad student’s thesis, after finals. That’s all. ...Uh huh. Well, I was thinking about picking up some shifts at Fix-It again, like I did last summer.”

“You don’t want to go to Gino’s or the supermarket?” their father asks.

“Uh, no. That’s okay. I already have a good thing at Fix-It, I think.”

“Well, the bakery could use another hand every so often. I know you’ve had some good times there in the past.”

“I’m good. Thanks for the suggestion, Dad.”

“Sure, sure. How’s school going?”

“It’s going fine.” His eyes flit toward the new pot sitting in his third-story window. Three green bulbs poke out of the dirt. No sign of flowers. That’s okay, though. All the books say it takes about three months. “Just gearing up for finals in a month.”

He likens the bulbs to a beating heart of sorts. Hero’s the life support. When they bloom, he knows it’ll be temporary. That’s okay. He just needs to know he can grow something. That he can take care of something, let something live out its life.

Hero understands why Basil gardens, now. Plants don’t say anything; they don’t have human emotions or wants. Their needs are simple and uncompromising.

He just wants to feel like he isn’t broken.

Sunny grew flowers, after all. Sunny managed it, even after everything. He wouldn’t have sent some store-bought flower to him. Sunny isn’t like that. Hero knows what Sunny’s like. He-- He _does._ Despite everything. Despite the pain that clenches its claws around his insides, he knows Sunny.

“Hero?”

He blinks. “Yeah, Dad?”

“You were really quiet for a while there. I thought the line died.”

“Um. No. No, it’s fine.” The wind ruffles his hair. “Well. I don’t know how many more minutes I got left, so.”

“We should really get you a track phone or something.”

“I’m okay using a payphone, Dad. It’s fine, really.” He swallows. “Maybe you could get Kel a track phone? I’m sure he’d really appreciate that.”

“Kel’d lose it in a day.”

His stomach sinks. He holds back a sigh. “I got to go, Dad. Tell everyone I say hi.”

“Sure thing, Hero. Good luck at school.”

“Thanks. Bye.”

“Bye!”

He presses the phone onto the receiver, finger hanging off of the coin return. “Kel wouldn’t lose it in a day,” he says to no one.

Hero knows Kel. He knows all of the people in his life. Despite everything, despite all the things they’ve done and failed to do, big or small, he knows what they’re really like.

His chest hurts.

\- - -

Because of everything, he knows better than to think about her.

\- - -

**Flower Chat**

**Aubrey** • _today at 12:00pm_

Okay. Real talk. Sunny is not coming.

**kel** • _today at 12:32pm_

Uh yeah he is. He has a doctor’s appointment.

**Aubrey** • _today at 12:40pm_

I mean he’s not going to hang out with us.

**kel** • _today at 12:41pm_

Why wouldn’t he?? He messaged us lol.

**Aubrey** • _today at 12:41pm_

Sure but he’s not going to see any of us.

**kel** • _today at 12:41pm_

Wanna bet?

**Aubrey** • _today at 12:42pm_

Sure I’ll bet, Kel. 20 dollars. None of us are going to see Sunny.

**kel** • _12:42pm_

I’m about to be a rich man >:)

\- - -

The flower buds are paler than pale. They’re starting to look like the photo on the bag. That’s the goal, right?

They’re gangly, young and fragile. Like a shy little kid.

Hero rub his thumb along the ridges with caution.

Soft.

\- - -

Summer break comes too soon.

\- - -

The train ride almost fries Hero’s nerves. Not because he’s going to see Sunny again. He’s seen enough of Sunny behind his eyelids and he’s certain the real thing can in no way be as terrifying as the dreams his own rancid mind has concocted.

No, he’s afraid because he doesn’t want his flowers to die.

They’re nice. Genuine, actual flowers. Pale and simple, with bulbous heads. They feel quiet and peaceful. Maybe it’s weird to ascribe human characteristics to a plant, but the reverse happens all the time. He can’t be that weird.

Every time the train rattles, his insides curdle in anxiety.

It’s a heavy pot, taking up his entire lap.

He wonders what Mari would say, if she saw him like this. The thought makes him flinch. Generally, Mari is an off-limits topic. She crops up, of course--how could she not?--but Hero’s careful about when and where.

Maybe he should be less careful. He isn’t sure. Hero knows he has strict mental blockades. It’s exhausting.

Cautiously, he broaches the topic with nervous mental fingers. Mari rolling her eyes and smiling down at him, standing next to his seat on the train. _A whole flower pot, Hero? Really?_

Yeah. A whole flower pot. He’s got babies on board, see? Real, genuine flowers are growing between his hands. They’re...well, they’re not pretty like Aubrey’s zinnias, but they’re beautiful to Hero.

_Who’s the lucky girl?_

No girl. They’re not for anyone.

 _Come on, Hero. They’ve got to be for_ **_someone._ **

He swallows. “They just reminded me of--” His lips snap shut. He stares at the space between his spread knees, flushing.

Luckily, he’s alone.

Luckily.

All alone.

His lower lip wobbles.

He leans back and smoothes out his thoughts until they flatline.

\- - -

“Hero! Welcome home!”

Their mother waves as well as she can with her arms full of a very unruly Sally.

“Hey, Mom. Great to see you. House smells good!”

“It’s a surprise,” she says. “I’m trying a new recipe. We’ll see how it turns out.”

Whatever it is, Hero can already tell it’s overcooked. Steak? Smells like well-done steak.

“That’s great, Mom.” He readjusts the pot in his hands, forearms twinging. “Where’s Kel?”

“Oh. Kel’s in your room,” their mother says, shifting Sally to her other shoulder. “Dinner’ll be ready in ten minutes!”

“Great. Thanks, Mom.” Oof. He nods at his dad on the sofa, climbing up the stairs slowly to prevent any unnecessary jostling.

“Hey, Kel.” Hero closes the door behind him. “What’s up?”

“Studying,” he grumbles.

“Oh, gotcha. Trigonometry?”

“World history. I’ve got to know what the French did in 1780-whatever. I’m not even French!” Kel pushes away from his desk, standing and stretching. “Wow...” He whistles. “You grew some flowers, Hero?”

“Yeah. They’re gonna bloom soon.”

“Super cool.” It’s not cool at all. “So you gave up on the other flowers or what?”

“They were old seeds,” he says, setting the pot down on his desk. It’s so heavy. That’s okay, though. Hero’s lifted heavier things.

“So, uh. Good news.”

He looks up, watching Kel hop from foot to foot. “Yeah?”

“Sunny’s coming to town, today!”

“Oh, yeah. I saw that in the chat.”

“Yeah.” Kel nods. “And he’s going to stay with us.”

Hero’s mind clicks to a halt. “Oh.”

Kel’s smile slides down his face. “Uh huh.”

“Um. Okay.”

“If that’s a problem--”

“It’s not a problem.”

Sunny’s coming to town. Sunny’s going to be staying with them. His heart drags in his chest, reluctant to beat.

He stares at the floor between Kel’s feet with unfocused eyes.

“I’ll sleep with him in the living room,” Kel says.

“No. It’s fine, Kel.”

Kel shrugs. “Well, I’m not gonna be sharing a bed with him, so.”

“He’s fine in the living room alone,” Hero says. “Or. Well, we can work it out, okay?”

“Hero, you don’t need to see him. You know that, right?”

“Why wouldn’t I want to see him?”

Kel looks at him.

“I’m fine,” Hero says softly.

Kel sighs. “Whatever. Just... You know. You’re allowed to hang out in our room if you want. Just letting you know that that’s an option.”

“Sure. Thanks, Kel. But I’m fine. Really.”

Kel gives him a dubious glare. “Yeah, of course. You’re always fine, Hero.”

Hero smiles. “Yep.”

Kel shakes his head, walking out of the room.

Hero keeps smiling.

\- - -

Sunny sits at their dinner table like a convict on death row.

Their parents had given up on engaging with him very quickly.

Hero’s teeth grind.

Sunny’s still wearing a cover over his right eye. He’ll probably be wearing a cover the rest of his life. Hero knows what it looks like underneath. He saw the gaping hole when it first formed.

Hero’s teeth grind.

“Thanks for steak, Mom!” Kel cheers, cutting into the dark brown meat. Overdone. It’s totally overdone.

“Of course,” their mother replies. “You washed your hands before dinner, right, Kel?”

He groans. “Ye-es.”

He definitely didn’t.

Hero’s teeth grind.

Forks and knives scrape at plates. Sunny slowly cuts his steak into small segments, eyes on the table. He moves his knife with surgical precision.

Hero’s teeth grind.

Sunny just...sits there. His whole body is coiled like a spring, but his face is empty.

Hero’s teeth grind.

He wonders what Sunny’s face looked like when Mari died.

He wonders if Sunny looked down at her from the stairs just like that, with that glum, unmoved face. He wonders if Sunny said a single fucking word, that night. He wonders if Basil had to console him at all, if Basil was crying and screaming while Sunny just stood there like a mannequin.

Mari’s mangled body between the boys as they dragged it around like a sack of shit and not the best person any of them had ever known. He wonders if Basil ever said, “I’ve got an idea” like an absolute sociopath.

He wonders if Sunny bothered to say, “Oops.”

Acid burns Hero’s throat. He almost gags.

His breathing feels strange. Like he has to consciously push and pull it out of his body. His throat is so tight, constricting the passage.

 _Oh. I’m going to freak out,_ he realizes. _Uh oh._

So he stands up, smiling at the whole room. “Sorry, I just remembered I’ve got a, um. Paper due later this week. So I’ve got to go upstairs.”

“Huh? It’s summer break,” their father points out.

“It’s a paper he’s helping me on!” Kel says quickly. “For finals.”

“ _What?_ You’re cheating on your finals?” their mother asks.

“N-no, he means. Uh. He means he’s studying! It’s a mock-paper,” Hero says. His heart throbs. Sunny looks at him. The pinpoint of his eye burns. “I-I. I really need to do that.”

“You can stay for dinner, at least, Hero,” their father says. “Worry about it later.”

“Hero’s really got to poop,” Kel says.

 _“Kel!”_ their mother gasps.

“Um. Bye!” Hero takes what he can get, slipping out of the room as fast as his sockedfeet can take him.

To his credit, he does go to the bathroom. Locks the door and doesn’t turn on the light. Closes his eyes and breathes. He counts backwards and keeps counting.

\- - -

A knock on the bathroom door.

He doesn’t answer it.

Why would he answer it? This room is occupied, obviously.

A slip of torn notepad paper shoots out from the underside of the door.

_hope you’re O.K._

Hero stares at the shaky lettering from his place by the sink.

He wonders if Sunny cried and begged Basil to help him call an ambulance. He wonders if Basil was too afraid of what authorities would assume if they saw the scene. He wonders what kind of thirteen-year-old has learned to be afraid of things like that. He wonders if Sunny hugged Mari’s body to his chest at the bottom of those stairs.

He still doesn’t open the door.

\- - -

He remembers catching sight of a shadow by the entry to the kitchen. Mari’s kitchen. Everything in Mari’s house is Mari’s. Mari’s house, Mari’s living room, Mari’s kitchen.

Mari’s brother, Sunny, in the doorway.

“Hey, Sunny.” Hero sets the knife down. He’d been cutting up some sandwiches for lunch. “What’s up?”

“Ah.” Sunny clears his throat.

Hero turns around. It’s not often that Sunny talks. He never asked about it; it seems like a sensitive subject. Mari, in privacy, had once admitted that she was afraid he’d never really talk. _I think he needs a little push,_ she’d said, dipping her toes in the lake, eyes foggy.

“Um. Cookies. I’m here to do...” Sunny whispers.

“You want to make cookies?”

“...Yeah.”

Hero smiles at him. “That’s really nice of you, Sunny. What’s the occasion?”

Sunny shrugs, looking away.

“Well. I guess you don’t need an occasion for cookies.”

“Mm.”

“I can clear out if you want, then. I’m just making some sandwiches for later.”

Sunny nods, slipping past him to open the fridge. He pulls out the eggs. Then shuts the fridge. No butter.

He’s only eleven, so he might not actually know what he’s doing. Hero means, Sunny _definitely_ doesn’t know what he’s doing since he proceeds to set the oven pre-heat to 170F.

“You want some help?”

Sunny freezes.

_But it’s hard to encourage him, because people have been so mean to him. It’s... They don’t know him like I do._

Hero opens his hands. “Just offering. It’s no big deal. I’ve got tons of time, though, and I really like making cookies. So, you know.”

“Um. ...Sure.”

Hero opens the fridge and pulls out the butter. “Chocolate-chip cookies sound good? I know Mari has some chocolate chips in the pantry.”

Sunny nods, stepping away. He frowns. He’s always had the most miserable looking face.

“Why don’t you go grab the sugar and flour? --And brown sugar. And baking soda. It’s in the orange box. We can measure them out, together.”

Hero turns to the stove while Sunny scrambles to follow his instructions. 350F is a lot more reasonable. When he turns back, Sunny’s already placing the bags on the counter beside him.

“Mari always does things for me,” he says, words halting. “Um. I just... I wanted to do something nice for her.”

_So many people don’t know Sunny and I really wish they did, because he’s great. He’s so kind, Hero. And smart and imaginative and... He’s a really great person._

Hero’s chest warms at his words. “That’s a really great idea,” he says. “I think that’s really nice of you, Sunny.”

Sunny shrugs, looking down.

“Okay, you want to put two cups of flour in this bowl?”

He nods, the paper bag crinkling under his fingers as he drags it toward him.

_I know he’s not as energetic as Kel or as outgoing as you, but--just speaking as a girl, haha--it’s nice to have a calm brother. I wish I could spend more time with him, but... I’ve just got so much practice and school and after that, I’m too tired to hang out with him, at lot._

The top flips open with a cloud of powder.

Sunny coughs, his face white.

He looks like a mime.

Hero laughs.

_I know he’s lonely. And I wish he had more confidence. He has no idea how much he has to offer people._

Sunny blinks, grimacing.

“You look like Pierrot the sad clown,” Hero chides, bunching up his shirt under his hand and passing it over Sunny’s face. He comes out the other end with a red face, cheeks puffed with held breath. “That’s better.”

Sunny squints, offering him a small smile.

 _Honestly, Hero?_ Mari had laughed, kicking at the water. She leaned her head onto his shoulder. Warm. She had been warm, then. _I wish he knew how lucky I feel to be his sister._

\- - -

Kel is asleep, snoring in his bed.

Hero slips out of bed, tugging his pajamas back into place. It’s getting too warm to be wearing sleep pants to bed. That what he had at the top of his suitcase, though.

In the low light, his flowers look blue.

Maybe he should have grown blue flowers, instead.

He picks up the pot. Such a heavy weight.

The stairs creak under his bare feet. He takes them one at a time, hand on the railing.

Sunny is awake on the couch. Hero catches his eye glittering in the low light, fixated on the ceiling fan in the center of the room.

“Hi, Sunny.”

Sunny’s eye turns toward him. The convict on death row. He looks ready to accept his fate.

Hero sucks in a breath, stepping off of the stairs. “You mind if we talk a bit?”

Sunny shakes his head, sitting up.

“Um. Cool.” He shifts the pot between his arms. “It, ah. Must have been hard to come back here. So. Thanks for that.”

Sunny shrugs.

“Sorry about leaving during dinner. Had some, uh. Stomach discomfort.”

Sunny stands, folding his hands in front of him.

Who is Hero kidding? “...It’s hard to see you again.”

Sunny blinks his one eye. Hero isn’t telling him anything Sunny wouldn’t have expected.

He laughs, shaking his head. Not a friendly laugh. Not a funny laugh. Not a fake laugh. He feels stripped back, raw and aching. “I did what I always do. Just...had to get away.”

Sunny doesn’t say anything.

“Just like all those years, I mean. I-- I think I avoided you as much as you avoided us, if I’m being honest. Just like how I...couldn’t visit Mari, all those years. Because it just brought it all back.” Hero shrugs, eyes on his hands, curled around the pot. His hands are smaller than Kel’s, now. He wonders if his hands would be smaller than Mari’s, if she’d kept growing up with him. He prefers to think they would be perfectly sized for holding, like complementing pieces in a jigsaw. “Seeing you, especially now, Sunny, it’s... It just brings it all back.”

Sunny doesn’t say anything.

He looks up. “But I’m glad you’re here.” Sunny, the boy he was friends with once, not the monster he dreams about on a bad day. The real, flesh-and-blood, _alive_ person.

Sunny says nothing.

It’s painful, but Hero expected it to hurt.

“Um. Here.” He holds out the pot of flowers. “These are for you. They’re white tulips.”

Sunny takes the pot from him, curling his arms over the terra cotta.

“I grew them from bulbs. Um. They reminded me of you.” Hero shifts. That’s a weird thing to say, isn’t it? It’s got to be weird.

Sunny stares at them, dazed.

“Sorry, I. Uh. I guess they aren’t that flashy.” He feels stupider by the second. White tulips are very understated. Too much so. “I. I wasn’t even planning to give them to you when I first planted them, because I didn’t know you’d be coming up. I just... I thought of you when I saw them, so I grew them. A-and if they remind me of you, I might as well _give_ them to you, you know?”

Hero really doesn’t know. But it’s the truth. They remind him of Sunny. Pale and nondescript. He’d flipped through books on flowers, flower care, flower meanings. And yes. White tulips. They’d felt appropriate.

In the language of flowers, white tulips can mean a few things. Remembrance is one meaning.

Forgiveness is another.

“Thanks.”

The word was so quiet, for moment Hero’s afraid he misheard. But he sees the bob of Sunny’s throat, the way his lips quiver and his eye closes.

“I’m just glad they got here in one piece,” he replies dumbly.

“...Shouldn’t have. Um.” Sunny swallows. “Done this.”

“I wanted to.” And it’s true. He did.

Sunny’s face crumples and he cries.

Hero’s body moves before he can consider a course of action, hands slotting over Sunny’s thin biceps. “They’re just flowers,” he says.

Sunny cries, pressing his face into the tulips. He shakes his head.

He’s right. They aren’t just flowers. Not to Hero and not to Sunny. Not to any of them.

Inside, Hero knows he’s angry. He’s really angry. Angry at Sunny, angry at Basil, angry at everybody. He’s angry at himself, especially. But it’s a strange anger, borne from a pain that can’t realize itself.

Sunny just cries.

He presses his dry face into Sunny’s hair, squeezing him to his chest. They’re probably crushing the flowers, but Hero can’t find the presence of mind to care that much. He cares, though, so he eases up a little. If one more person he loves--

“You didn’t mean to do it, Sunny,” he manages, because he knows it’s true. He _knows._ He knows. He knows, intellectually. “Y-you. You didn’t mean to. I know that.”

If he were Sunny, he wouldn’t be able to _live_ with--

“It’s just. Really _senseless,_ right?” He stares past Sunny’s head, at the landing to the stairs. His whole body aches. “I spent so long wondering what I did wrong, but. But none of us really did anything wrong. It just happened.”

It just happened. It just happened, and it’s so _unfair._

“I’m. I mean. I’m mad at you in the same way I’d be mad at the ocean if she’d drowned. If she’d fallen down those stairs by herself, I’d still be mad. I’m... I think I’m always going to be mad.”

Sunny’s forehead knocks against his chest. Hero remembers cradling his little body in his arms that night, both of them covered in blood and sweat. He remembers how desperately he’d willed for Sunny to live, a violent thrum in his pulse as he directed Kel and Aubrey and Polly to restrain Basil and call an ambulance.

If Sunny had died in his arms, he--

He doesn’t know what he would have done.

Probably killed Basil, if he’s being totally honest.

He doesn’t feel good about it.

A snap decision in a moment of rage. Something he’d regret immediately.

Hero doesn’t want anyone else to die. Not now. Not ever. He really, really doesn’t. He knows it can’t ever go back to how it was. Life doesn’t work like that. But life does work. It works.

Sunny, breathing against him, is living. The tulips between them, alive and living despite their fragility. Two lives Hero hasn’t seen snuffed out. Two lives he doesn’t want to ever end.

“But Mari would want you to be happy,” he says, thick throat swallowing. “She’d want us all to be okay, you know? B-because. Because she loved you very much, Sunny. She had. S-so much love in her. And she loved us all...so much.”

Sunny sniffles, shaking his head.

“I’m sorry,” Hero croaks. “I’m sorry that any of this happened. And I know you are, too. We’re in this together, right? We’re...we both miss her so much, but she’s not going to come back.”

Sunny’s shoulders shake.

“I know you loved Mari, Sunny,” he says. It’s painful to say. It’s painful to think about, how Sunny could hurt someone he loved so much. Mari.

Mari...

“I loved her, too.”

“I’m sorry,” Sunny whispers, muffled by his shirt.

“I know.” Hero blinks, eyes stinging with fat tears. Sorry doesn’t do anything, but it’s still sorry. Hero thinks about Sunny all alone in his room, for years. Years and years. Hero thinks about the day he decided to stop feeling sad, hugging Kel’s terrified body to his. The day he realized his emotions could tear someone else apart, how it scared him, how he desperately wanted to swallow his own emotions and digest them. Years and years.

There’s anger, there. He’s so angry. But he’s also so, so sad. And tired. He wishes he’d wake up now. He wishes he’d wake up on Mari’s couch in his perfect body with his perfect friends.

But he isn’t perfect. None of them were ever perfect.

“I’m going to forgive you,” he says into Sunny’s hair. “Someday.”

“Please don’t.”

“You don’t get to decide that,” Hero replies, voice steadier than he feels. He’s holding Mari’s brother and her killer in his arms. He’s holding a heartbeat in his arms. “I do.”

Sunny doesn’t say anything.

That’s okay, though. Hero doesn’t have anything else to add, anyways.

They stand together in the dark living room, like two slow dancers after the last call.

\- - -

**Flower Friends**

**kel** • _today at 9:10am_

Sorry we’re gonna be late. 10:15 instead?

**Aubrey** • _today at 9:12am_

Kel.

**kel** • _today at 9:12am_

Sunny is coming ok! And Hero has a crick in his neck or however you spell that. He’s such an old man.

**Aubrey** • _today at 9:13am_

Sunny???

**Basil** • _today at 9:13am_

Sunny’s coming?

**kel** • _today at 9:13am_

Yup. B)

**kel** • _today at 9:14am_

Hey, guys! It’s Hero. I’m not an old man. Yeah, Sunny is coming over with us! I’ve got to show you the flowers I planted in March. They look great!

**Aubrey** • _today at 9:15am_

Okay, wow. Also Kel did you change the chat name?

**kel** • _today at 9:15am_

Huh, I guess he did.

**kel** • _today at 9:15am_

>:)

**Aubrey** • _today at 9:16am_

Whatever. Get off the computer and get ready and get to Basil’s ASAP. With Sunny, I guess.

**kel** • _today at 9:17am_

bring my 20 DOLLARS Aubrey

**Aubrey** • _today at 9:17am_

Ugh.

**kel** • _today at 9:18am_

What’s this about 20 dollars? Aubrey, don’t give Kel 20 dollars.

**Aubrey** • _today at 9:18am_

It was a bet.

**kel** • _today at 9:19am_

Fine, I’ll give Kel 20 dollars, then.

**kel** • _today at 9:19am_

lol ok Hero

**Aubrey** • _today at 9:20am_

Why are you replying to him on your own account? You’ve got to be typing on the same keyboard.

**kel** • _today at 9:20am_

Yeah but it’s funny

**Aubrey** • _today at 9:21am_

Whatever. Thanks, Hero.

**kel** • _today at 9:21am_

Hero’s too nice :P

**kel** • _today at 9:21am_

Rather to be too nice than the alternative. :)

**Aubrey** • _today at 9:22am_

That smiley has such a threatening aura.

**Aubrey** • _today at 9:22am_

Anyways, get your butts to Basil’s. I’ll be there in five. Bye.

“Aubrey’s so weird,” Kel grumbles, shoulder-bumping Hero in their shared space at the keyboard.

“What did you make a bet about?” Hero pulls away. “You really shouldn’t bet on stuff with Aubrey, Kel.”

Kel rolls his eyes. “She said Sunny wasn’t going to show up.”

“Oh.”

He waggles his eyebrows. “Little did _she_ know, I already knew Sunny was gonna show up, because I messaged him offering to let him stay here for his doctor’s visit.”

_“Kel.”_

“What? I spent so long annoying Sunny and I deserve payment!”

Hero sighs. Sunny’s sitting on his bed, cliff-faced as usual. He holds the pot tulips on his lap, fingers running errantly along the leaves. “I’ll give you the twenty dollars, Kel. But you can’t do stuff like that, okay? Aubrey’s money is hers.”

“Hey, twenty dollars is twenty dollars.” Kel lightly fist-bumps Hero’s arm. “That’s fine by me. You owe me because I had to wake you up before Mom and Dad found you passed out in the living room.”

“Ah.” He scratches his neck. “Yeah. I guess I owe you, Kel.”

“Psh. Hero, I’ve been saving you since I was born. If it weren’t for me lowering their expectations, Mom and Dad would have expected you to become a Super Doctor or something nuts.”

There’s a small sound from the other side of the room. Sunny. He’s covering his mouth, but it was unmistakeable. He’d laughed.

Kel cackles. “See, _someone_ appreciates me around here!”

“What? Kel, I just thanked you! I’m giving you twenty dollars!”

He wraps his arm around Hero, giving a brisk side-hug. “Just a long list in your efforts to repay me, bro.”

“I’ll tell Mom you never clean the toilets.”

Kel releases him. “Okay, I take it back. We’re even.”

Hero shakes his head, smiling despite himself. “Whatever. Come on, let’s grab some breakfast and go.”

“Can you make us something?”

He blinks. “Me?”

Kel nods. “Yeah, you. We got twenty minutes and I haven’t had French toast in _ages.”_

Hero hasn’t touched a stove for more than basic essentials in over four years.

His eyes drift to Sunny, sitting on his bed, holding the tulips in a loose embrace on his lap. Alive and well. Mari is dead.

Mari is dead, but they’re alive. And he can’t keep running from everything anymore. He doesn’t want to.

It doesn’t have to be like that. It never did.

The knot inside him loosens at the thought. He isn’t scared.

“Yeah. Sure.”

Kel stares. “Wait, really?”

Hero shrugs. “Yeah. I can make some French toast. But we’ve got to be quick.”

Kel’s face unfurls into a smile. “Sweet! Come on, Sunny. Let’s set the table and stuff before he changes his mind. Come on, go go go!”

Hero laughs as they scramble to the door and down the stairs, Kel whooping.

It’s the first real smile he’s worn in years.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this in three days. It's a very rough story, as a result. I wrote it for fun, though, so I figured I'd post it, since it's pretty sizable. I don't really relate to Hero as a character, but I enjoyed exploring the mental space I created in my headcanon for him. 
> 
> Flower symbolism:  
> cactus flowers (endurance and loneliness)  
> marigolds (pain and grief)  
> zinnias (remembering absent friends)  
> purple hyacinths (please forgive me)  
> white tulips (forgiveness, remembrance)  
> [Edit: For me, symbolism isn't just about the actual symbol, but also how it's place contextually in the story. For example, Kel's plant (already grown and given to him by Basil) isn't actually a cactus, though it's related. Hero's marigolds don't grow because they're old seeds. Things like that. I thought I'd clarify for anyone interested. Of course, you can take whatever meaning you want from it. That's the reason it's symbolism and not explicit text.]
> 
> Title is from "Beach Life-In-Death" by Car Seat Headrest because I couldn't come up with a title. It's a reference to how feelings about people resurface, no matter how hard we try to bury them.


End file.
